School Spirit: Valentine's Day Massacre
by Smileyfax
Summary: Daria finds that Lawndale High is far, far stranger than she expected...
1. Chapter 1

Daria poked her head into the classroom, scanned it quickly for any presence of life and, upon seeing it was empty, practically dashed in, seating herself at the farthest desk.

Her first day at Lawndale High was not going well.

Right off the bat, she had noticed something was off with the way the other students dressed. The boys mainly wore blue jeans and leather jackets, with their hair styled in pompadours. The girls had skirts - wide skirts, not like hers, all in bubblegum pink. Their tops were also pink, and some even wore scarves and sunglasses (the scarves were, naturally, pink). It was as if everybody was auditioning to be an extra in Grease.

The principal had told the new batch of students (that right there should have raised a question - why the hell was the school getting a large chunk of new students mid-semester?) that they would be going to see Manson, the head shrink, and the way he said it unnerved Daria a little.

Dr. Manson (Daria doubted whether the woman had ever seen the inside of a psychiatric learning institution) had showed her an image, a silhouette of two people talking, and asked her what she saw in the picture. Daria replied with her stock answer ("A herd of beautiful wild ponies running free across the plains,") and Manson asked if she was being a wise guy. Daria replied that she lacked the genitalia to be a wise guy, and Dr. Manson PULLED A GUN ON HER IN RESPONSE. She informed Daria in no uncertain terms that she would 'whack' Daria and have her buried in the cement of a foundation at a construction site.

After escaping from the run-in with Dr. Manson with her life, Daria was instructed to immediately go to her next class. Upon telling the school's secretary that a gun had been pointed at her less than five minutes previous, the older woman shrugged and said she shouldn't have mouthed off.

Her schedule had listed the teacher as simply being called 'Tony the Teeth'. She had wondered at that, before finding that Tony 'the Teeth' DeMartino had, instead of regular teeth or even regular dentures, a set of stainless-steel metal teeth, each of which was razor sharp. She would have asked him what it was like working with Roger Moore in the movies, but the sawed-off shotgun he had nestled in his lap when she entered the room disavowed her of that idea post-haste.

Tony the Teeth (he insisted all his students call him that) asked Daria about the effects Prohibition had on organized crime. Daria related what she had read - that Prohibition had opened the gates, via bootlegging, for individuals like Al Capone to profit greatly on the black market demand for alcohol. "Of course," Daria had said, "Capone later went to Alcatraz and was driven crazy by syphilis, so crime doesn't always pay."

Tony the Teeth had sneered, said that Daria's answer was almost suspiciously good, and coldly informed her that she would be sleeping with the fishes if he ever caught her cheating. She looked around, hoping to see the other students laughing at the joke, but nobody was laughing, and it wasn't a joke.

After that class period, she went back to the office to call up her mother, informing her that two staff members had directly threatened to murder her, but Helen seemed to ignore her, laughing it off and telling Daria she was just going through new school jitters. Daria began to shout, but Helen had simply wished her a good day and hung up.

She was called to the office once again at the end of the day, where she was met by Dr. Manson and given an offer she couldn't refuse. (Dr. Manson used those exact words). She told Daria that she would be attending self-esteem classes, to learn how to value her own life better, because otherwise something might just happen to end that life. An accident, perhaps. A tragic but unavoidable accident.

Daria accepted the offer.

So now she sat as far away from the front of the room as possible, waiting for the teacher to come in as the other students filed in.

He dramatically kicked the door in and just stood there for a few seconds, allowing Daria to take in his appearance. He was wearing a freaking zoot suit and fedora, and held a violin case in one hand. Daria doubted it held a violin.

He stormed over to the desk, where he sat the violin case. "Alright, youse mugs, simmer down!" he shouted. "My name's 'Tommy' O'Neill. You know why they call me Tommy?" He didn't give the kids a chance to answer, as he whipped open the violin case, snatched out the Thompson submachine gun inside, and emptied a whole clip into the ceiling. Daria shrunk down as far into her seat as she could as dust and plaster rained down on the rest of the students (who sat there as docilely as if 'Tommy' had done nothing at all).

O'Neill replaced the Tommy gun in its case, then straightened his tie. "I wanna talk to youse all about realizing your actuality, and you all better stand up afterward and proudly proclaim 'I am', capische?" He snarled the last word.

Daria wanted to know what realizing your actuality actually meant, but she wanted to not be gunned down by the insane teacher even more.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw some motion. Turning, she saw that the girl who sat next to her, a raven-haired girl in a red dress with white polka-dots, was handing her a note. With a quick glance to see if the gun-toting maniac was watching, she snatched it, unfolded it, and read it.

'I know a guy who can get you dressed up properly,' it read.

Daria scribbled a reply. 'What makes you think I want to fit in?' She handed it back.

The girl read her reply, jotted down a counter-reply, and passed it back. 'You were scared shitless by that machine gun display. I can tell you right now that if you don't fit in, he won't be gunning down the ceiling next time.'

Daria gulped and wrote down, 'Fine. But I reserve the right to hate every minute of it.'

The girl read this last response and smirked at Daria. A final scribble at the bottom of the page, then a hand-off to Daria.

'Just like regular high school. Call me Jane.'

XXXXXXXXXX

Astute readers will notice that this is a greatly revised and expanded version of the first half of the first chapter of my fic 'Untitled Crazy Themed Schools Fic', which I originally wrote for an IC submitted by MystikSpiral entitled 'Gangster School?', about what Daria would be like if Lawndale was an inner-city type school. However, I decided to take the title of the IC quite literally and came up with a silly story in which most everybody in the school were literal gangsters, either Prohibition-era mobsters (the teachers, mainly) or 1950s-era greasers (the students). This is also partially borrowed from an episode of Star Trek where an entire planet had a Prohibition-era gangster-inspired culture, which is quite an oddity in and of itself.

When I elected to continue that ficlet and branch off into other crazy themed schools in the area (a Nazified Fielding and a Cowboyified Oakwood, I didn't really have any specific direction in mind, so it kind of sputtered and died. But just recently, I figured out where I could take the series! So I start it anew. Have no doubt that it won't be a ludicrous ride at times, but this time there'll be bits of serious stuck around here and there. 


	2. Chapter 2

Daria and Jane were walking home after leaving Nathan's Boutique, a vintage clothing store where Jane had picked out several outfits which Daria could use to fit in. "I don't get it, Jane," Daria said. "How is Lawndale this...this..."

"Batshit crazy?" Jane finished. They hadn't talked about the nature of the school on the way to the store, electing to discuss lighter affairs and get to know one another better. "I have no idea. My brother Trent didn't talk about it very much...all I know about his high school days was that he was one of the 'greaser' types that make up most of the student body. I never considered he wore that outfit for a reason until my second day as a freshman, when two of my fellow freshmen made the mistake of offending an upperclassman. He had them rubbed out on the spot." Jane shuddered. "I kept my mouth shut and my bod in old duds ever since."

Daria shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the horrific imagery. "But how the hell could it get this way? Have you noticed any signs of...I dunno, external mob influence?"

Jane shook her head. "I'm not exactly an expert on this kind of thing, Daria, but if they were, don't you think they would be trying to hide it as much as possible? Or at the least, act like Prohibition ended decades ago and ditch the zoot suits?"

Daria nodded once, conceding the point to Jane.

"Besides, that doesn't explain the other schools."

"What other schools?"

"Well, the other schools in this county are all...uh, 'themed', like Lawndale is. There's Oakwood, which is a 'cowboy' school, there's Grove Hills, which is an Ancient Rome school, and there's Fielding, which is a Nazi school." She ticked each of the institutions off on one hand.

"...A Nazi school?"

"Yeah. They all act like it's Germany circa 1939. Just like Grove Hills acts like it's Julius Caesar's heyday, and it's always the OK Corral at Oakwood."

They walked in silence as Daria absorbed the information. "This whole town is fucking nuts," she finally concluded.

Jane laughed. "That's the conclusion I came to as well, amiga. Personally..." She leaned in close to Daria, looking around conspiratorially first to make sure nobody was watching them. "Personally, I think it's magic."

Daria shrugged. "Well, something sure as hell is making the whole county nuts. When I called mom earlier, she thought I was just nervous about being at Lawndale when I told her how many death threats had been made against me."

Jane nodded. "Yeah, I tried telling my mom about it too, but she just thought I was using vivid imagery to express my dissatisfaction with the callous learning institutions of oh God it still gives me a headache just saying it out loud." Jane rubbed her temples in a vain effort to alleviate the pain.

After bullshitting some more about the school and drifting on to other topics, they reached Daria's house. "Well, this is my stop," Daria opined.

"Ah. Trade numbers?" They traded numbers, and Jane wished Daria a good day before walking in the direction of her own home.

As Daria walked up to the front door, she noted her parents' cars were in the driveway. For once, she was pleased that they would be home. She would be able to get them out of Lawndale, and maybe if she was persuasive enough she could convince Helen to bring Jane along.

XXXX

"Don't be silly, Daria," her mother dismissed her claims again. "We've had this talk before, when you said those two boys you used to hang out with were proof of radioactive waste being dumped in the water table."

"Yeah, and didn't we move a thousand miles away from Highland the same week the papers broke that story?"

Helen waved a dismissive hand. "Be that as it may, Daria, I find it hard to believe every one of your teachers is out to kill you."

"How about I wear a wire and a hidden camera? How about some witness testimony from my classmates? How about you come with me to school for five minutes tomorrow and see the HOLES MY TEACHER SHOT INTO THE CEILING OF HIS CLASSROOM?" Daria was uncharacteristically animated, but the threat of being machine-gunned can do wondrous things.

Helen shook her head. "I don't think so, Daria, and there's no need to shout. I won't hear any more of it, and that's that." She turned to Quinn. "Now sweetie, how was your day?"

"It was so great, mom!" Quinn said, bounding with enthusiasm. "Do you have any of your clothes from when you were a teen in the 1950s?"

Helen's voice grew a tad frosty. "I grew up in the 60s, Quinn..." She warmed back up. "I do think mother should have most of my old clothes in storage, though, I'll have to call her..."

"The 60s? Ugh! Muh-ommm, the retro-50s look is totally in." She gestured to her sister. "Even DARIA is fitting in better than I am! At least give me some money so I can buy some new old clothes!"

"While normally I would interject with a snarky comment about Quinn's shallow tastes, mom, in this case you should acquiesce, because if Quinn doesn't fit in, one of the teachers or students might plug her full of lead."

Helen rolled her eyes at Daria's comment, choosing to ignore it. "Very well, Quinn. I'll lend you the gold card, but try not to go over $200, okay?"

XXXX

Later that night after dinner, Daria hit upon the idea of asking Quinn if she noticed anything weird about the school. She knocked on her sister's door. "Oh, it's you," Quinn said with a small measure of distaste once she opened the door. "What do you want?" Her tone was snotty.

"Quinn, did you notice anything...off...about the school?" She had explained absolutely everything wrong with the school to Helen while Quinn had been sitting two feet away, but that was no guarantee Quinn had actually heard any of it.

"Well, duh. All the retro fashions! At least Waif lets you browse their issues from that decade on their website for free, or I'd be helpless! Oh, Daria, can you tell me where you got that dress?" Daria had been wearing the conservative black dress ever since she had bought it at Nathan's - if she had to wear it, she was going to get used to wearing it all the time.

"Quinn, didn't anything else seem off to you? Did you notice anybody get threatened with, say, being shot, or being fitted for cement boots, or anything else along those lines?"

Quinn wrinkled her nose in distaste at what Daria was describing. "Daria, you're being weirder than usual," she commented.

Daria sighed. "Quinn, my life was threatened no less than three times today. A teacher fired off a goddamn machine gun in the middle of one of my classes. I...dontwantyoutogethurt." She muttered the last as quickly as she could.

Quinn looked at Daria funny. "What?"

"Nothing," Daria brushed off the comment. "Um. The store I got this dress at is called Nathan's Boutique, and it's located a block south of Dega Street..." She gave Quinn directions to the store, then walked into her bedroom, laid on the bed, and wondered if she would be able to make it through the next two years of high school alive. 


	3. Chapter 3

Several weeks passed, and Daria found herself becoming...well, she sure as hell wasn't becoming attached to the school, but she was growing to tolerate it. After buying proper attire and reining in her sarcastic tongue, the students and teachers left her alone for the most part. Why, she was hardly threatened with a gruesome end at all!

She had even been invited to a party thrown by Brittany Taylor, a 'cheerleader' (a.k.a. moll) for Kevin Thompson, the quarterback of the football team. (Jane explained that the football team was really a euphemism for the group which distributed the bootleg alcohol throughout the area - Kevin Thompson hadn't so much as touched a football a day in his life).

Quinn had also attended this party, and expressed interest in becoming Kevin Thompson's moll. ("How do you even know that word?" Daria had asked her increduously). Her efforts were short-circuited by three students from Oakwood, the cowboy school. (Daria was half-surprised that the school actually existed, having been not entirely sure that Jane wasn't pulling her leg). The three boys had started brawling over Quinn, which caused the police to raid the party, resulting in the 'football team' and the 'cheerleaders' fleeing the premises, using a heated firefight as cover. Daria couldn't remember the three Oakwood students' names after fleeing the party with Jane and Quinn in tow; her only recollection was that their names all began with the letter J.

Her interaction with Kevin 'QB' Thompson was thankfully brief after that...until her science teacher decided that the two would be partners in a project on behavioral modification. Quinn, of course, knew about it almost immediately afterward, as evidenced by the conversation she had with her mother after school.

"Daria, I heard you're working with Kevin Thompson on a science project. He's quarterback of the football team, isn't he?"

Daria shot a glare at Quinn, who just shrugged and said, "I heard Brittany talking about it in the bathroom."

"Did this 'talking' of hers happen to mention a bloody end for me if I touched her man?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know if she mentioned a bloody end specifically..."

Helen cut off the conversation. "Honestly, Daria, I don't know why you're still being so morbid about your school! I'm positive it's not that bad."

Daria stared blankly at her mother, still unable to comprehend how the woman was unable to see the forest for the trees. "Mom, I've explained to you numerous times over the past few weeks how the school is a front for the fucking mob. Kevin Thompson is a bootlegger, and I'm pretty sure he's killed at least three people."

"Daria! You go to your room right now for such language, lady!"

As Daria marched up the stairs, she fired a parting shot. "I wonder if I started gunning down cops, if you'd punish me for that."

Helen called her down two minutes later, informing her that Kevin had arrived, her banishment seemingly forgotten as she gushed about how Kevin could end up expanding her social circle. As Kevin was standing right there, she felt it impolite to reiterate how the man was a murdering mobster, and instead led him into the garage, where the maze she'd constructed before his arrival was set up.

"Nice setup you got here," he said, pointedly looking at her and not the maze.

Daria stared back at him. He wore a zoot suit like his contemporaries on the 'football team' (it seemed to be a privilege awarded to the upper echelons of the mob social structure...or something, Daria tried not to make sense of the insane situation too much), but had taken the jacket part off and had hung it on the coat hooks just inside the front door. He pushed the brim of his fedora up just a bit, so as to get a better view of her, causing locks of his black hair to poke out from under it.

"Look, I already set up the maze, so you don't need to do anything...if you want, we have the Pigskin Channel, so you can go watch that -"

Kevin interrupted her with a grin. "I ain't interested in pigs' skins. Your skin, now..."

Daria scowled and shook her head. "Don't even think about it. Look, I'm going to run the mouse through its drills, so you...go do whatever." She turned her back on him, released the mouse into the maze, and began taking notes.

As she worked, she heard Quinn drift in and out, trying to woo Kevin, and failing miserably. (She noted that Kevin had taken a seat on a stool at the other side of the garage...and had been looking at her. It weirded Daria out a little, but at least looking was all he was doing).

Quinn's first attempt was asking if he was thirsty, and pointing out there was soda in the fridge. Kevin responded distractedly that he wanted ice in his. Amusingly enough, she actually got it for him, as well as the cushion he wanted (the stool was hard on his bottom) and the steak he requested. Quinn finally worked up the nerve to ask him out to Chez Pierre, but he pointed out that there was plenty of good food at the house already.

Eventually, Quinn seemed to have given up, and abandoned her efforts, allowing Daria to work in silence for some time. Until she felt a pair of hands on her hips, causing her to jump in fright, bumping the table and frightening the mouse inside.

"Hey, doll, what's the problem?" Kevin asked smoothly, holding his hands up in retreat as Daria swirled around.

"You - you TOUCHED me!" she said hotly.

"Hey, I tried to keep my hands off you all night, but that annoying dame kept distracting me, and I just had to get my hands on a real lady, you know what I mean?"

"Oh? And just what is wrong with my sister?" Daria snapped back, suddenly protective.

Kevin rolled his eyes. "She's just like my girl, Britt, I can tell. Used to guys throwin' themselves at her, then when she sees a guy she can't get, it drives her wild. If I let her get her hooks in me, she'd be just the same as Britt there, too, her eye wanderin' all over the damn place, only throwin' a shit fit if I so much as..." He leaned in closer to Daria. "...looked at another dame..." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "...touched another dame..." He put his hands on Daria's hips again. "...kissed another dame..." He leaned towards her face...

Daria jerked herself out of his grip, backing to the far end of the garage. "Kevin, I'm...I'm not interested in you." She hoped that was the politest way to turn down the violent gangster.

Kevin simply broke into a grin. "That's just why I like you. You got fire. You got independence. You got brains. You don't throw yourself at me like most broads. You even got nicer tits than Britt - hers're bigger, but you know what they say: More'n a handful's a waste."

Daria, blushing furiously, crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I...that's..." she spluttered.

She may have eventually come around to objecting with a full sentence, but Brittany Taylor walked into the garage then, flanked by Quinn. "There's Kevin!" Quinn gleefully pointed out. "Daria's trying to put moves on him!"

Brittany, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line, pulled a small revolver out of her purse and aimed it at Daria. "Tryin' to steal my man, eh? I'll show you what happens to whores in this town!"

Kevin quickly placed himself between Daria and the firearm. "Britt, honey, doll, what are you doing? Put the gun down, sweetie."

"She was trying to mack on you! Quinn told me!"

Kevin smiled, shaking his head. "Britt, it ain't like that at all. Daria was just showin' me how the maze worked, is all."

Brittany moved her wrist, aiming the gun nowhere in particular, but wasn't putting it away yet. "Gee, sounds complicated. Why don't you show me how it works, Kevin?"

"Easy, Britt." He walked over to the maze and ran the mouse through it, explaining how negative and positive reinforcement affected the mouse's ability to go through the maze quicker each time. Daria raised her eyebrows, a little impressed that Kevin had actually been watching her close enough to discern her methodology.

Brittany's face soured as if she had bit into a lemon, but she put the gun away, at least partially convinced. "Alright, Kevin, let's go," she told him. She turned to Daria. "As for you, little Miss Smarty-pants...If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from my Kevin, or you'll find yourself in a maze with a whole world of negative reinforcement coming down on your head. Clear?"

Daria gulped and nodded.

Brittany smiled. "Great. See you at school tomorrow!" And with that, the gruesome twosome were gone.

Daria turned to Quinn, who was white as a sheet. "Quinn, you idiot, don't you realize what -"

"Daria, she was pointing a GUN at you!" Quinn interjected, horrified. "She was going to KILL you!"

Daria's rant died, as she realized the reality of life at Lawndale High had only now sunk in with Quinn, and she hadn't realized what consequences siccing Brittany on her would entail. "Look, Quinn...do you realize how dangerous this school can be now? I wasn't fucking around when I told you Mr. O'Neill filled my classroom with lead on our very first day. Almost everybody in that school is a psychotic killer, and the smallest thing can set them off. Just...try not to set any of them off, okay?"

Quinn's face was worried for a brief moment, then it shifted to irritation. "Gawd, Daria, whatever! It's not my fault you have a hard time fitting in," she dismissed, waving her hand and walking out of the garage.

Daria sighed. "Why do I bother?"

XXXXXXXXXX

I actually had no idea Kevin was going to attempt a seduction until I began writing that scene. I suppose in the absence of football, he's become more suave and...gasp...intelligent!

One, maybe two more chapters in this, I think, before I start on the sequel. 


End file.
